
10 S THE DUPE? 

IN TWO ACTS. 

S. COTOSEY. 




li?i--%%JjL^ 



FORm) AT THE THEATRES ROYAL. / 
IVith Remarks. / 




NEJV-YORK : 

Published by CHARLES WILEY, No. 3, Wall-street, 

And H. C. CAREY it I. LEA, and M'CARTY & DAVIS 

Philadelphia, find SAML. H. PARKER, Boston. 

1824. 



■igX^^ 



ip^ 



WHO'S THE DUPE? 



^ iFatce, 



\ 



IN TWO ACTS. 

BY MRS. COWLEY 



CORRECTLY GIVEN, 

AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL. 

rVith Reinarks. 




NEW-YORK : 

Tublishecl by CHARLES WILEY, No. 3, Wall-alrctf, 

AiiJ H. C. CAREY k. I. LEA, aud M'CARTY & DAVIS 

Philadelphia, and SAML. H. PARKER, Boston. 

1824. 



DRAMATIS PERSONtB. 



Drury Lane. 

Doiley Mr. Dowton. 

Sandford Mr. Holland, 

Gradus Mr. Bannister. 

Granger Mr. Decamp. 

Servant Mr. Evans. 

Elizabeth Mrs. Dormer. 

Charlotte ,..»..*....* Miss Mellon, 




MHO S THE DUPE 



ACT THE FIRST. 

SCESE I. THE PAKK. 

Flower girls and several persons passing. 

1 Girl. I vow I han't had a customer to-day. Sum- 
mer is coming, and we shall be ruined. When flow- 
ers are plenty, nobody will buy 'em. 

2 Girl. Aye, very true ; people talks of sumraev, 
but, for my part, give me Christmas. In a hard 
frost, or a deep snow, who's drest without flowcr-J 
and furs.^ Here's one of the captains. 

Enter Sandford. 
Flowers, sir ! 

Sand. I have; no silver. 

2 Girl. Blessyour honour! I'll take gold. 

Sand. Indeed 1 

2 Girl. Here's hyacinths, and a sprig of myrtle. 

Sand. I'd rather have roses. What will you take 
for these.'' (pinching her cheek.) 

2 Girl. 1 can't sell them alone the tree and the 

roses must go together 

Enter Granger. 

Sand. Ah ! Granger, by all that's fortunate. I 
wrote to you last night, in Devonshire, to hasten 
your return. 

Grang. Then your letter and I jostled each other 
at two o'clock on this side Hounslow. My damned 
postilion— nodding, I suppose, over the cJiarms for 
K 



a WHO'€ THE DUPE ? act r. 

sdrae Greasalinda — run against the letter-cart, tore 
off mj^ hind wheel,, and I >\ias forced to mount his 
one-eyed hack ; and, in that curious equipage, ar- 
rived at three this morning. 

Sflnd. But how has the negotiation with your bro- 
ther ended? Will he put you in a situation to 

Gra7ig. Yes, to take a sweating with the Gentoos. 
He'll speak to Sir Jacob Jaghire to get me a com- 
mission in the East Indies : and, you know, every 
body grows rich there — and then, you know, you're 
a soldier, you can fight, (in a tone of mhnickry .) 

Sand. Well, what answer did you give him ? 

(rrang. Yes, Sir Bobby, I can fight (niimicking,) 
but J can't grew rich on the smell of gunpowder. 
Your true East India soldier is of a different genus 
from those who strewed Minden with Frenchmen, 
and must have as great a fecundity of character as 
a Dutch Burgo-master. Whilst his sword is in his 
hand, his pen must be in his cockade : he must be 
as expert at fractions as at assaults : to-day mowing 
down ranks of soft beings, just risen from their em- 
broidery : to-morrow selling pepper and beetle nut : 
this hour, a son of Mars, striding over heaps of slain ; 
the next, an auctioneer, knocking down chintz and 
calico to the best bidder. 

Sand. And thus your negotiation ended ? 

Grang. Exceptthat I was obliged to listen to some 
very wise dissertation about ' running out,' as he 

calls it. Five thousand enough for any younger 

«on, but the prodigal, {mimiddng) Really, Sand- 
ford, I can't see how I can help it. Jack Spiller, to 
be sHire, had nine hundred — the poor fellow was ho- 
nest ; but he married a fine lady, so died insolvent. 
I had a few more accidents of the same kind ; my 
captaincy cost a thousand; and the necessary expen 
ses in America, with the distre^♦ses of my fellow sol- 
(\hvs. have s,waUowed fhe rest. 



SCENE V. WHO'S THE DUPE? '7 

Sand. Poor Granger ! So, with a spirit to do ho- 
nour to five thousand a year, thou art not worth five 
shillings. 

Grang. Cest vrui. Should my affairs with Eliza- 
beth be crossed, I am the most undone dog- on earth. 

Sand. Now teil me honestly, is it Elizabeth or the 
forlune, which is your object ? 

Grang. Why, look'ye, Sandford ; T am not one of 
those sighing milksop", who could live in a cottage 
on love, or sit contentedly under a hedge and help 
my wife to knit stockings ; but on the word of a sol- 
dier, I had rather mflrry Elizabeth Doiley with ten 
thousand pounds, than any other woman on earth 
with a hundred. 

Sand. And the woman must be very unreasona- 
ble, who would not be satisfied with such a distinc- 
tion. But do you know that Elizabeth's father has 
taken the liberty to choose ason-in-law without your 
permission .' 

Grang. Ha ! a lover ! That then is the secret she 
hinted, and which brought me so hastily to town. 
Who what is he .'' 

Sand. Every thing that you are not. 

Grang. There is such a mixture of jest and ear- 
nest — 

Sand. Upon my soul, 'tis confoundedly serious. 
Since they became my neig-hbours in Suffolk, I am 
in the secrets of the whole family ; and, for your 
sake, have cultivated an intimacy with Abraham 
Doiley, citizen and slop-seller. . In a word, the fa- 
ther consults me, tlic daughter complains to me, and 
the cousin, fille-dc-cbambre, romps with me. Can 
my importance be increased ? 

Grang. My dear Sandford ! {inipctienlly. 

Sand. My dear Granger ! The sum total is 
this : — Old Doiley, bred, you know, in a charity- 



S WHO'S THE DUPE ? act i. 

school, swears he'll have a man of ' learning' for his 
son. His caprice makes him regardless of fortune ; 
but Elizabeth's husband must have Latin at his fin- 
gers' ends, and be able to teach his grandsons to 
sputter in Greek. 

Grang. Oh ! I'll study Hebrevi^, and write odes in 
Chaldee, if that will content him : but, may I per- 
ish, if all the pedants in England, with the Universi- 
ties to back 'em, shall rob me of my Ehzabeth ! — 

See here (producing a I f ) an invitation from 

her own dear hand. — This mo£ aing — this very hour 
— in a moment I shall be at her feet, (going) — Go 

with me through the Park. — Oh, no 1 cry you 

mercy You walk, but I fly. [exit. 

Sayid. Propitious be your flight ! — Egad ! there 

are two fine girls I'll try 'em^ half afraid 

the women dress so equivocally, that one is in dan- 
ger of attacking a countess, when one only means 
to address a nymph of King's Place. [exit. 

SCENE II. AN APARTMENT AT MR. DOILEY's. 

Mr. and Miss Doiley at breakfast. 

Doil. Here, take away — take away. Remember, 
we are not at home to nobody, but to Mr. Gradus. 

Serv. The formal gentleman that was here last 
night, sir ! 

Doil. Yes, (snappishly) the gentleman that was 
here last night, [exit Servant] What I see you are 
resolved for to have poor Gradus's heart, Elizabeth I 
— I never saw you so tiicked out in a morning be- 
fore. But he isn't noue of your chaps that's to be 
catched with a mountain head, nor knots, nor gew- 
gaws. — No, no ; you must mhidyour P's andQ's with 
him, I can tell you. And don't laugh now, when he's 
with you. You've a confounded knack at laughing; 
and there's nothing so odious in the eyes of a wise 
wir.n, as a sreat lausrher. 



jCE.VE n. WHO'S THE DUPE? ft 

Miss D. Oh ! his idea is as reviving as burnt fea- 
thers in hysterics. I wish I had seen him last night, 
with all th;^ rust of Oxford about him ; he must have 
been the greatest provocative to mirth. 

Doil. How ! What ! a provokive to mirth ! — Why, 
why, hussey, he was recommended to me by an an- 
tikary doctor of the Royal Society he has finish- 
ed his * larning' seme time ; and they want him to 
come and drink and hunt in Shropshire. Not he — 
he sticks to Ai JNlater ; and the Colloge-heads have 
been laid togetiicr many a time to know whether he 
shall be agreatjudge,a larned physician, or a civiUty 
doctor. 

Miss D. Nay, then, sir, if he's all this laugh- 
ing will be irresistible. 

Doil. Don't put me in a passion, Betty ; don't go 
for to put me in a passion. What would you have 
a man with an etarnal grin upon his face, like the 
head of a knocker .'' And hopping and skipping 
about like a Dutch doll with quicksilver in its heels ? 
If you must have a husband of that sort, so be it — 
so be it — you know the rest. 

Miss. D. Surely, sir, 'tis possible for a man who 
does not move as if cut in wood, or speak as though 
he delivered his words by tale, to have breeding, and 
to— 

Doil. May be — may be ; but your man of breed- 
ing is not fit for old Doilev's son. AVhat ! shall I 
go fr- to give 'ije labour of tbiity years to a young 
jackanapes, who'i! come into the room with a danc- 
ing-school stej). and prate of his grandfatlier Sir 
Tliomas, his great grandfather, the general, and his 
great great-grea • -irrandfather.merely because I can't 
tell whether I pver had one or no ? 

Miss D. 1 hope, sir, that such a man could never 
enjjajje mv 



10 WHO 3 THE DUPE.^ act. i. 

Doil. Pshaw ! pshaw ! you can't pertend for to 
judge of a man all hypocrites and deceivers. 

Miss D. Except Mr. Gradus. 

Doil. Oh, he ! He s very 'UfTerent from your men 
of breeding, I assure you : the most extraordinary 
youth that was ever turned out of college. None 
of your randans, up all night — nnt drinking and 
wenching. No, in his room — poring, and reading, 
and reading and studying. Oh, the joy that I shall 
have in hearing him talk ! [ do love *■ larning.' 
I was grieved — grieved to the soul, Betty, when 
thou vvert born. I had set my heart upon a boy ; 
and if thou hadst been a boy, thou shouldst have 
had Greek, and Algebra, and jometry enough for 
an archbishop. 

Miss D. I am sorry 

Doil. No, no ; don't be sorry ; be obedient, and 
all will be as it should be. You know I dote on you, 
you young slut. I left Eastcheap for Westminster, 
on purpose to please 3'ou — Haven't I carried you 
■to Bath, Birmingem, and Warley Common, and 
all the genteel places ? I never grudge you no ex- 
pense, nor no pleasure whaitsomever. 

Miss D Indeed, sir, you are most indulgent. 

Doil. Well then, don't thwart me, Betty; don't 
go for to thwart me, that's all. Since you came into 
the world, and disappointed your father of a son, 'tis 
your duty to give him a wise son-in-law, to make up 
his loss. 

Enter Charloife. 

Char. Mrs. Taflfety, the mantua-maker, is in your 
dressing-room, ma'am. 

Doil. Then send her away : she hasn't no time 
now for Mrs. Taffety. 

Miss D. Aye, send her away, Charlotte. What 
does she want ? I didn't send for her 



SCENE 111. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 1 1 

Char. Bless me 'tis the captain. (apuN- 

Miss D. Oh, heavens ! (aside) Yes, I do remena- 

ber Aye, I did 1 did send for her about the 

painted lutestring. 

Doil. Bid her come again to-morrow, I say. 

Char. Lord bless me, sir, I dare say she can't 
come again to-morrow. Such mantua-makers as 
Mrs. Taffety won't wait half a dozen times on peo- 
ple. — Why, sir, she comes to her customers in a 
chair of her own ; and her footman beats a tattoo 
at the door as if she was a countess. 

Voil. A mantua-maker witii her footman and 
chair ! lud ! O lud ! I should as soon have ex- 
pected a duchess in a wheel-harrow. 

Miss D. Pray, su', allow me just to step and 

speak to her. It is the sweetest gown and I'd 

give the world were you as much charmed witli it 
as I am. 

Doil. Coaxing slut ! [exeunt Miss- D. and Ot-ar- 

lotte] — Where the devil can Gradus be now ? 

Well, good fortune never comes in a hurry. If I'd 
pitched upon your man of breeding, he'd have been 
here an hour ago — sipped his ji.cklate, kissed Eli- 
zabeth's fingers, hopped into his caniage, and away 
to his wench, to divert her with charatures of the 
old fellow and his daughter. Oh ! before I'd give 
my gains to one of these puppies, I'd spend 'em all 
in building hospitals for lazy lacquies and decayed 
pimps. lezil. 

SCENE III. A DRESSING ROOBl. 

Miss Doiley and Granger. 
Miss D. A truce to your transports! Perhaps 1. 
am too much inclined to believe all you caji swear ; 
but this must be a moment «f busines.^. To .«ectire 



V2 WHO'S THE DUPE ? act i- 

ruff to yoursjpir, are 3-011 willing to entfer into mea- 
sures that — 

Graj}g. Any thing ! every things ! I'll have a 
chaise at the Park-gate in five minutes ; and we'll 
be in Scotland, my Elizabeth, before your new 
lover has settled his address. 

Miss D. Pho I pho ! you're a mere bungler at 
contrivance; if you'll be guided by me, my father 
shall give rae to you at St. James's church, in the 
fiice of the world. 
Grang. Indeed! 
Miss D. Indeed. 

Grang. 1 fear to trust to it. my angel ! Beauty 
can work miracles with all mankind ; but an ob- 
stinate father 

Miss D. It is you who must work the miracle. 
I have settled the whole affair with my cousin, who 

has understanding and wit and you have only 

to be obedient.. 

Gi-ang. I am perfectly obedient. Pray give me 
my lesson. 

Miss D. Why, luckily, yon know my father has 
never seen you : he left Bath before you had the 

sauciness 

ETiUr Charlotte, with a bundle 
Char. There ! you're finely caught ! Here's your 
father and Mr. Gradus actually upon the stairs, 
Coming here. 

Grang. Zounds ! 'A-here's the closet ? 

MmD. Oh, Lord! here's no closet.^ 1 shall 

faint with terror. 

Grang. No back stairs? No clothes press .' 

Clictr. Neither, neither ! But here I'm y©uv 

g-.uardian angel — (unfyiug the hwndU) 1 told 'cm 
Mr?. Taffety was here : 90. without nieve ceremeny, 



,scEJfB ni. WHO^S THE DUPE ? 13 

rlap on these speak brokeu English, and, my 

life for it, you'll pass master with my uncle. 

Grang What! make a woman of mc ? Bv Jupi- 
ter— 

Char. Lay your commands on him. If he doesn't 
submit, we are ruined. 

Miss D. Oh, you shall, I protest. Here, I'll put 
his cap on. 

Doil. (rvithout) This way, sir ; come this way 

We'll take her by surprise least preparation 

is best — {'pulling at the door) Open the door ! 

Miss D. Presently, sir. 

Doil. (knocking) What'the dickens arc you doing, 
I say ? Open the door ! 

Char. In a moment I'm only pinning- my cou- 
sin's gown Lord, bless me ! you hurry one so, you 
have made me prick my finger. — There, now you 
may enter. 

Enter Doiley and Gradus. 

Doil. Oh ! only my daughter's mantua-maker — 
(Granger makes curtseys, and goes out , folloived hy 
Charlotte) Here, Elizabeth, this is that Mr. Gradus I 
talked to you about. Bless me! I hope you a'n't ill 
you look as white as a candle. 

Miss D. No, sir, not ill ; but this woman has fret- 
ted mo to death she has spoiled my gown. 

Doil. Why, then, make her pay for it, d'ye hear ? 
It's my belief, if she was to pay for all she 
spoils, she'd soon drop her chair, and trudge afoot. 

Mr. Gradus beg pardon this is my daughter 

don't think the worse of her because she's a Ut- 
ile dashed or so. 

Grad. Bashfulness, Mr. Doiley, is the robe of mo- 
desty, and modesty, as hath been well observed, is a 
sunbeam to a diamond — giving force to its beauty, 
and exalting its lustre. 



14 VV^HO'S THE DUPE ? act i. 

Doil. He was a deep one, I warrant him, that said 
that. 1 remember something like it in the Wisdom 

of Solomon. Come, .speak to Elizabeth there 

1 see she won't till you've broke the ice. 

Grad. Madam ! (bows) hem — permit me — this 
honour — hem — believe me, lady, I have more satis- 
faction in beholding you, than 1 should have in con- 
versing witli GfEvius and Gronovius : 1 had rather 
possess youi approbation than that of the elder 
Scaliger ; and this apartment is more precious to 
me than was the Lyceum Portico to the most zea- 
lous of the Peripatetics. 

Doil. There ! Show me a man of breeding who 
could talk so ! (aside. 

Miss D. 1 believe all you have said to be very fine, 
sir; but unfortunately, I don't know the gentleman 
you mentioned. The education given to women 
shuts us entirely from such refined acquaintance. 

Grad. Perfectly right, madam, perfectly right. 
The more simple your education, the nearer you 
approach the pure manners of the purest ages. The 
charms of women were never moi'e powerful — ne- 
ver inspired such achievements, as in those immortal 
periods, when they could neither read nor write. 

Doil. Not read nor write ! Zounds, what a time 
was that for to bring up a driujrhter ! VVIiy a peer- 
ess in those days did not cost so much as a barber's 
daughter in ours. Miss Friz must have her danc- 
ing, her French, her tambour, her harpsichoU, her 

jography, her 'stronomy whilst her father, to 

support all this, lives upon sprats ; or. once in two 
years, calls his creditors to a composition. 

Grad. Oh, ternpora muiantur ! but these exuber- 
ances, Mr. Doiley, indigitate unbounded liberty. 

Doil. Digitate or not ifackens, the ladies 

V'ould Uike my advice, thev'd return to their distaflfss 



ucExi; iiT. WHO'S THE DUPE : 15 

and grow notable to distinguish themselves from 

their shopkeepers' wives. 

Grad. Ah ! it was at the loom, and the spinning 
wheH, that the Lucretias and Portias of the world 
imbibed fheii virtue ; that the mothers of the Grac- 
chi, the Horafii, the Antonini, caught that sacred 
flame with which they inspired their sons, and with 
the milk of thfir own pure bosoms gave them that 
fortitude, that magnanimity which made them con- 
querors and kings. 

Enter a servant. 

Serv. Sir, here's a lord ! Lord Pharo ! 

Doil. Lord Pharo ! hum, then the four aces 
run against him last night. Well, the ill-luck of 
some, and the fine taste of others, makes my money 
breed like rabbits. {aside. 

Serv. Sir 

Doil. Well, well, Pm coming. When a lord wants 
money, he'll wait as patiently as any body. Well, 
Mr. Gradus, Pm your humble sarvant. Elizabeth ! 
you understand me. [e.vif. 

Grad. How unlucky the old gentleman should be 
called away ! Hem ! (addressing Idmself to speak to 
her) There is something in her eye so sarcastic, Pd 
rather pronounce the lerrfcfilius, than address her. 

Madam ! — What can I say .'' Oh, now that's 

fortunat ■ (pnliin^ nut some papers) Hem ! I will 
venture to lequtst your ideas, madam, on a little 
autographon, which design for the world. 

Miss D. Sir ! 

Grad. In which I have found a new chronometer, 
to prove that Confucius and Zoroaster were the 
same person ; and that the Pyramids are not so an- 
cient, by two hundred years, as the world believes. 

MissD. To what purpose, sir ^ 

CroA. Purpose! — Purpose, madam! Whv, real- 



16 WH03 THE DUPE ? act i. 

ly, miss, our booksellers' shelves are loaded with 
volumes in the unfruitful road of plain sense and na- 
ture ; and unless an author can clance himself from 
the common track, he stands as little chance to be 
known, as a comet in its aphelion. Pray, ma'am, 
amuse yourself. 

Miss D. O Lord, sir ! you may as well offer me a 
sheet of hieroglyphics besides, \ hate reading. 

Grad. Hate reading ! 

Miss D. Ay, to be sure ; what's reading good for, 
but to give a stiff embarrassed air .^ It makes a man 
move as if made by a carpenter, who had forgot to 

give him joints (observing him) he tv^iils his hat, 

and bites his thumb, w hilst his hearers, his behold- 
ers, I mean, are gaping for his wit. 

Grad. The malicious creature ! 'Tis my picture 
she has been drawing, and now 'tis more impossible 
for me to speak than ever. 

Miss D. For my part for my part, if I was a 

man, I'd study only dancing and bon-mots. With 
no other learning than these, he may be light and 
frolicksome as Ladv Airy's ponies: but loaded with 
Greek, philosophy, and mathematics, he's as hea- 
vy and dull as a cart-horse. 

Grad. Fcemina cum voce, diaboli. 

Miss D. Bless me, sir, why are you so silent .' My 

father told me you was a lover 1 never saw such 

a lover in my life. By this time you should have 
said iifty brillirmt things — foi;nd a hundred similies 
for my eyes, comple:?f ion, and v, it. Can your memo- 
ry furnish you with notjiing p;it ? PJo poetry — no 
heroics ? What subject did Portia's lovers entertain 
her with, while she sat spinning — aye ? 

Grad. The lovers of that age, madam, were igno- 
rant of frothy compliments. Instead of being gal- 
lant, tbcv were brave : instead of flnttcrv thev stu- 



suE.NE III. WHO'S THE DUPE? 17 

died virtue and wisdom. It was these, madam, that 
nerved the Roman arm ; that empowered her to 
drag the nations of the world at her chariot wheels ; 
and tliat raised her to such an exalted height 

Miss D. That down she tumbled in the dust 

and there I beg- you'll leave her. Was ever any 
thhig- so monstrous ! I ask for a compliment, and 

you begin an oration an oration on a parcel of 

stifi' warriors, and formal pedants. Why, sir, there 
is not one of these brave, wise, godlike men, but will 
appear as ridiculous in a modern assembly, as a 
judge in his long wig and maccaroni jacket. 

Grad. Now I am dumb again. Oh, that I had 
you at Brazen-nose, madam ! — 1 could manage you 
there. ' (aside. 

Afiss D. What ! now you're in the pouts, sir.'' 'Tis 
miglity well. Bless us 1 what a life a wife must lead 
with such a being ! for ever talking sentences, or 
else in profound silence. No delightful nonsense, 
no sweet trifling. All must be solemn, wise, and 
grave. Hang mo, if I would not sooner marry the 
bust of Seneca, in bronze : then I should have all 
the gravity and coldness of wisdom, without its im- 
pertinence. 

Grad. The impertincce of wisdom ! — Surely, ma- 
dam, or I am much deceived, you possess a mind 
capable of 

Miss D. Now I see, by the twist of your chin, sir, 
you are beginning another oration; — but, I protest 
I will never heat you speak again, till you have for- 
sworn those tones, and that manner. Go, sir ; 
throw your books into the fire, turn your study into 
a dressing-room, hire a dancing-master, and grow 
agreeable. [exj7. 

Grad. Plato ! Aristotle ! Zeno! I abjure ye. A 
girl bred in a nnrserv, in whcse soul the sacred 



18 WHO'S THE DUPE ? act i. 

lamp of knowledge hath scarcely shed its faintest 
rays, hath vanquished, and struck dumb, the most 
faithful of your disciples, (enter Charlotte) Here's 
another she-devil, I'd as soon encounter a she-wolf. 

(going. 

Char. Stay, sir, pray, an instant I Lord bless me ! 
am I such a scare-crow ? I was never run from by 
a young- man before in my life. (pulls him back. 

Grad. I resolve henceforward to run from your 
whole sex. — Youth and beauty are only other names 
for coquetry and affectation. Let me go, madam, 
you have beauty, and doubtless all that belongs to it. 

Char. Lud ! you've a mighty pretty, whimsical 

way of compiimentiiig. Miss Doiley might have 

discerned something in you worth cherishing, in 
spite of (hat husk of scholarship. — To pass one's 
life with such a being, seems to me to be the very 
apex of human felicity. I found that word for him 
in a book of geometry, this morning. (aside. 

Grad. Indeed I 

Char. Positively. I have listened to your con- 
versation, and J can't help being concerned that ta- 
lents, which ought to do you honour, should, by your 
mismanagement, be converted into downright ridi- 
cule. 

Grad. This creature is of a genus quite different 
from the other. She has understanding! (aside) — I 
begin to suspect, madam, that, though I have some 
knowledge, I have still much to learn. 

Char. You have indeed knowledge, as you ma- 
nage it, is a downright bore. 

Grad. Boar ! \Vhdt relation can there be between 
knowledge and a hog I 

Char. Lord bltss me ! hew ridiculous. You have 
spent your life in learning the dead languages, and 



scKNE irr. WHO'S THE DUPE ? VJ 

arc ignorant of the living. — Why, sir bore, is all the 
ion. 

Chad. Ton ! ion ! What may that be ? It cannot 
be orthology : I do not recollect its root in the pa- 
rent languages. 

Char. Ha ! ha ! ha ! better and better. Why, sir, 

ton means ton is Pho I what signifies w here 

the root is .'' These kinds of words are the short hand 
of conversation, and convey whole sentences at 
once. All one likes is ton, and all one hates is lore. 

Grad. And is that divine medium, which pox*- 
trays our minds, and makes us first in the animal 
climax ! is speech become so arbitrary, that 

Char. Divine medium I animal climax ! (contemp- 
tuously) — You know very well, the use of language 
is to express ones likes and dislikes : and a pig will 
do this as effectually by its squeak, or a hen with 
her cackle, as you with your Litin and Greek. 

Grad. What can I say to you ? 

Char. Nothing ; but yield yourself to my guid- 
ance, and you sliall conquer Miss Doiley. 
. Grad. Conquer her ! she's so incased with ridi- 
cule, there is not a single vulnerable spot about her. 

Char. Pshaw, pshaw ! What becomes of her ridi- 
cule, when you have banished your absurdities .'' 
One can no more exist without the other, than the 
mundane system without air. There's a touch of 
my science for you. (aside. 

Grad. Madam, I'll take you for my Minerva 

Cover me with your shield, and lead to battle. 

Char. Enough. In the first place, (leading him to 
a glass) — in the first place, don't you think you are 
habited a la mode d'amour? Did 3'ou ever see a 
Cupid in a grizzle wig, curled as stiffly as Sir 
Cloudsley Shovel's in the Abbey ? — A dingy brown 
coat, vt'ith vellum button holes, to bo sure, speaks r.u 



20 WHO'S THE DUPE? act i, 

texcellent taste : but then I would advise you to lay 
it by in lavender, for your grandson's christening ; 
and here's cambric enough in your ruffles to make 
his shirt. 

Grad. I perceive my error. The votaries of love 
commence a new childhood ; and dig^nity would be 
as unbecoming in them, as .1 hornpipe to a Socrates. 
— But habit is so strong, that, to gain an empress. 1 
could not assume that careless air, that promptness 
of expression 

Char. Then you may give up the pursuit of Miss 
Doiley ; for such a wise piece of uprightness would 
stand as good a chance to be secretary to the coterie, 
as her husband. 

Grad. It is Mr. Doiley, who will 

Char. Mr. Doiley ! ridiculous Depend on't 

he'll let her marry just whom she will. This Mr. 
Gradus, says he "'hy? I don't care a groat whe- 
ther you marry him or no, says he tliere are 

fifty young fellows at Oxford, who can talk Greek as 
welJ as he 

Grad. Indeed ! 

Char. 1 have heard a good account of the young 
man, says he. But all I ask of you is, to receive two 
visits from Jiim — no more than two visits. If you 
don't like him — so; if you do, I'll give you half my 
fortune on the day of marriage, and the rest at my 
death. 

Grad. What a singularity! to limit me to two 
visits. — One is already past, and she hates me — 
What can I expect from the other ? 

Char. Every thing. It is a moment that decides 

the fate of a lover. Now fancy me. Miss Doiley 

swear I'm a divinity then take my hand, and 

press it thus. 

Grad. Heavens ! her touch has thrilled me. 



SCENE III. WHOS THE DUPE r 21 

Char. And if I should pout, and resent tlic liber- 
ty, make your apology on my lips. ( Gradn.s catches 
her in his arms and kisses her) So, so, you have fire, 
I perceive. 

Grad. Can you give me any more lessons ? 

Char. Yes ; but this is not the place. I liave a 
friend — Mr. Sandford, whom you saw here last 

night you shall dine with him : he will initiate 

you at once in the fashionable rage, and teach you 
to trifle agreeably. You shall be equipped from his 
wardrobe, to appear here in the evening a man of 
the world. Adieu to grizzles, and 

Grad. But what will the father think of such a 
metamorphosis .'' 

Char. Study your mistress only : your visit will 
be to her — and that visit decides your fate. Re- 
solve then to take up your new character boldly 

in all its strongest lines, or give up one of the 

richest heiresses in the kingdom. 

Grad. My obligations, madam 

Char. Don't stay, now, to run the risk of meeting 
Mr. Doiley ; for, if he should discover that you have 
disgusted his daughter, Sandford, the dinner, and 
the plot, will be worth no more than your gravity. 
Away, I'll meet you at Story's Gate to introduce 
you. [exit Gradus. 

Enter Miss Doiley. 

Miss D. Excellent Charlotte! you've outgone my 

expectation did ever a woodcock run so blindly 

into a snare ? 

Char. Oh, that's the way of all your great scholars 

take them but an inch out of their road, and 

you may turn 'em inside out, as easily as your glove. 

Miss D. Well, but have you seen Sandford .? — Is 
every thing in train ? — Will Gradus be hoodwinked.' 

Char. Hoodwinked ! Whv, dou't you see he's al- 
L " 



22 WHO 5 THE DUPE r' act n 

ready stark blind ? or, if hn has any eyes, I assure 
ye they are all for me. 

Miss D. My heart palpitates with apprehension: 
we shall never succeed. 

Char. Oh, I'll answer for the scholar, if you'll un- 
dertake the soldier. Mr. Sandford has engaged half 
a dozen of the savolr vivre ; all in high spirits at the 

idea of tricking old Leather-purse and they have 

sworn to exhaust wit and invention, to turn our So- 
lon out of their hanks a finished coxcomb. 

Miss D. Blessing on their labours ! Mr. Granger 
is gone to study his rival ; and will make, I hope, a 
tolerable copy. Now follow Gradus, my dear Char- 
lotte, and take care they give him just champagne 
enough to raise him to the point, without turning 
over it. [exeunt. 



ACT THE SECOND. 

SCENE 1. AN APARTMENT. 

Doiley adeep; a table before hiyn, vnth bottles^ ^c. 
Enter a Servant. 

Sen. Sir ! sir ! (jogging him) 5ir ! What a pise ! 
sure my master has drained the bottles, he .sleeps so 

sound Oh, no — (pours out a glass) — Here's t'ye, 

old gentleman ! can't think why they send me to 
wake thee — am sure the house is always quietest 
when you're a snoring, (drinks, then awakens him. 

Doil. Hey! — how ! what! Is Mr. Gradus come? 

Serv. No, sir but Mr. Sandford's above stairs, 

and a mortal fine gentleman. 

Doil. Fine gentleman! — aye — some rake, I sup- 
pose, that wants to sell an annuity. — I wonder where 
GVa^tfs is— -^^prfrt .seven. (lot)ning at his ivatch. 



scKNE II. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 23 

Serv. His friends keep the gentleman over a bottle, 
mayhap, sir, longer than he thought for. 

Doil. He over a bottle ! — more liker he's over 
some crabbed book ; or watching what the moon's 
about, through a microscope. Come, move the 
things, and empty them two bottoms into one bottle, 

and cork it up close d'ye hear. 1 wish Gradus 

was come. — Well, if I succeed in this one point, the 
devil may run away with the rest. Let the world 
go to loggerheads ; grass grow upon 'Change ; land- 
tax mount up -y little Doiley is snug. Doiley, with a 
hundred thousand in annuities, and a son-in-law as 
wise as a chancellor, may bid defiance to wind and 
weather. [extV. 

SCENE II. A DRAWING ROOM. 

Enter Gradus, led by Charlotte, and followed by Mr. 
Sandford. 

Char. Well, I protest this is an improvement ! — 
Why, what with satins and tassels, and spangles and 
foils, you look as fine as a chemist's shop bv candle 
light. 

Grad. Madam, do you approve 

Char. Oh, amazingly I'll run and send Miss 

Doiley to admire you. 

Grad. (looking iu a glass) Oh, if our proctor could 
now behold me ! he would never believe that figure 
to be Jeremy Gradus. 

Sand. Very true, and I give ye joy. No one 
would conceive you'd ever been within gun-shot of 
a college. 

Grad. What must I do with this .' 

.Sand. Your chapeau brass — wear it thus. These 
hats are for the aim only. 

Grad. A hat for the arm! what a subversion of 
ideas ! Oh, Mr. Sandford — if the sumptuary laws of 
LvcursMs 



S4 WHO'S THE DUPE ? act u. 

Sand. Damn it ! will you never leave off your 
college cant? I tell you once more — and, by Jupiter, 
if you don't attend to me, I'll give you up ; I say, 
you must forget that such fellows ever existed — that 
there was ever a language bat English — a classic 
but Ovid, or a volume but his Art of Love. 

Grad. I will endeavour to form myself from your 
instructions ; but tarry with me, 1 entreat you — if 
you should leave me 

Sand. I won't leave you. Here's your mistress 
— Now, Gradus, stand to your arms. 

Grad. I'll do my best; but I could wish the purse- 
keeper was Miss Chatlotte. 

Enter jWss Doiky. 

Sand. Hush ! Your d^^voted : allow me, madam, 
to introduce a gantlem.'in to you, in whose affairs I 
am particularly interested Mr, Gradus. 

Miss D. Mr. Gradus ! It is possible. 

Grad. Be not astonished, oh lovely maiden, at my 
sudden change ! Beauty is a talisman which works 
true miracles, and, without a fable, transforms man- 
kind. 

Miss D. Yo^ir transformation, I fear, is too sudden 
to be lasting 

Grad. Transformation ! Resplendent Virgo! bright- 
est constellation of the starry zone .' I am but now 
created. Your charms, like the Promethean fire, 
have warmed the clod to life, and rapi me to a new 
existence. 

Miss D. But may I be sure you'll never take up 
your old rust again .' 

Grad. Never. Sooner shall Taurus with Pisces 
join, Copernicus to Ptolomy resign the spheres, than 
I be what I was. 

Miss D I shall burst. (aside. 

Sand. Well, you've hit it off tolerably' for a coiip 



SCENE 11. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 25 

d'essai. — But pr'ythee, Gradus, can't you talk in a 
style a little less fustian ? You remember how those 
fine fellows conversed you saw at dinner ; no sen- 
tences, no cramp words all v.'as ease and impu- 
dence. 

Grad. Yes, I remember. Now the shell is burst, 
I shall soon be fledged. 

Doily, entering, starts back. 

Doil. Why, who the dickens have we here ? 

Sand. So, there's the old genius ! 

Miss D. But I am convinced now 1 am con- 
vinced now this is all put on- — in your heart you are 
still Mr. Gradus. 

Grad. Yes, madam, still Gradus : but not that stiff 
scholastic fool you saw this morning. No, no, I've 
learned that the acquisitions of which your father 
is so ridiculously fond, are useless lumber ; that a 
man who knows more than his neighbours, U in dan- 
ger of being shut out of society ; or, at best, of be- 
ing invited at dinner once in a twelvemonth, to be 
exhibited like an antique bronze, or a porridge-pot 
from Herculaneum. 

Doil. Zounds ! 'tis he ! I'm all over in a cold 
sweat. (behind. 

Miss D. And don't you think learning the great- 
est blessing in the world ? 

Grad. Not I, truly, madam Learning ! a vile 

bore ! 

Doil. Do I stand upon my hoad or my heels .'' 

Grad. I shall leave all those fopperies to the gray- 
beards at college Let 'em chop logic, or make Eng- 
lish hashes out of stale Hebrew, till they starve, for 
me. 

Sand. This is your resell' tion ? 

Grad. Fixed as Ixion on his wheel. I have no 
study now but the ton. 



26 WHO'S THE DUPE ? act ii. 

Voil. Indeed! 

Grad. You shall confess, my friend, in spite of 
prejudice, that 'tis possible for a man of letlers to 
become a man of the world. You shall see that he 
can dress, grow an adept in the science of taste, 
ogle at the opera, be vociferous at the playhouse, 
suffer himself to be pigeoned with an easy air at 
Boodle's, and lose his health for the benefit of his 
reputation in King's Place. 

Miss D. Bless me ! one would suppose you had 
been familiar in the bon ton ail your life ; — you have 
all the requisites to make a figure in it, by heart. 

Grad. The mere force of beauty, madam^ — I wish- 
ed to become worthy of you, and that wish has 
worked a miracle. 

Doil. A miracle with a vengeance ! Jaquet Dioz'- 
wood and wire-work was nothing to it. 

Miss D. How diflferent from what you was this 
morning ! 

Grad. Oh, mention it not — This morning may 

it be blotted from time's leger, and never thought 
on more ! I abhor my former self, madam, more 
than you can : witness now the recantation of my 
errors. — Learning, with all its tribe of solemn fop- 
peries, I adjure — abjure forever. 

Doil. You do .'' 

Grad. The study of what is vulgarly called phi- 
losophy, may suit a monk : but it is as unbecoming 
a gentleman, as loaded dice or a brass-hilted sword. 

Doil. Laming unbecoming a gentleman ! — Very 
well! 

Grad. Hebrew I leave to the Jew rabbles, Greek 
to the bench of bishops, Latin to the apothecaries, 
and astronomy to the almanac makers. 

Doil. Better and better. 

Grfiri. The mathematics — mixed, pure, specula- 



scivXE n. WHO'S THE DUPE? 27 

tive, and practical, with their whole circle of sci- 
t'uces, I consign in a lump to old men who want 
blood, and to young- ones who want bread. And 
now you've heard my whole abjuration. 
Doily, rv siting forward. 

Doil. Yes ; and 1 have heard too — I have heard. 
Oh, that I should ever have been such a dolt, as to 
take tliee for a man of larninj; I 

Gran. Mr. Doiley ! {confounded. 

Doil. What ! don't be dashed, man ; go on with 
your abjurations, do. Yes, you'll make a shine 
in the ton! — Oh, that ever I should have been such 
a nincompoop ! 

Sand. My dear Mr. Doiley, do not be in a heat. 

How can a man of your discernment Now look 

at Gradus — I'm sure he's a much prettier fellow than 

he was his figure and his manner quite different 

things. 

Doil. Yes, yes, 1 can see that — I can see that 

Why, he has turned little ^2sop upside down ; he's 
the lion in the skin of an ass. (walking about. 

Grad. I must retrieve myself in his opinion. The 
skin, Mr. Doiley, may he put ofi"; and be assured, 
that the mind which has once felt the sacred ener- 
gies of wistlom, though it may assume, for a mo- 
ment 

Miss D. So, so ! {angtUy. 

Sand, (apart) Hark, ye, sir ! that won't do. By 
heaven, if you play retrograde, I'll forsake you on 
the spot. You are ruined with your mistress in a 
moment. 

Grad. Dear madam ! believe me, that as for 

What can I say i* — How assimilate myself to two 
such opposite tastes ? 1 .stand reeling here between 
two characters, like a substantive between tw© ad- 
jectives. 



2S WHO'S THE DUPE? aci h. 

Doil. You ! you for to turn fop and maccaroni ! 
Why, 'twould be as natural for a Jew rabbin to turn 

parson. An elephant in pinners a bishop with 

rattle and bells, could't be more posterous. 

Sand. Nay, now, my dear Mr. Doiley 

Doil. Dear me, no dears. Why, if 1 wanted a 
maccaroni, I might have had choice ; every alley 
from Hyde Park to Shadwell Dock swarms with 
'em — genuine ; and d'ye think I'll have an araphi- 

berous thing half and half, like the sea-calf at 

Sir Ashton's ? 

Sand. Oh, if that's all, an hundred to ten Gradus 
will soon be as complete a character as if he had 
never learnt his alpha beta : or known more of the 
classics than their names. 

Doil. Oh, I warrant him. Now, what do ye think 
of the Scratchi, the Horsi, and the rest of 'em .'' 
aj'e .'' 

Grand. Oh, a mere bore ! a parcel of brawny, 
untaught fellows, who knew no more of life than 
they did of Chinese. If they'd stood candidates for 
rank in a college of taste, they'd have been return- 
ed ignorantur Would they not, madam ? 

Miss D. Oh, certainly. — I could kiss the fellow, 
he has entered into my plot w itb such spirit, [exit. 

Doil. Why, you've been in wonderful haste to 
get rid of the igranter part — but as it happened, 
that was the only part I cared for ; so now you may 
carry your hogs to another market ; they won't do 
for me. 

Grad. My hogs ! 

Doil. Aye, your boars — your improvements — 

your fashionable airs — your in short, you are 

not the man 1 took you for ; so you may trot back 
to college again ; ^o, mister, and teach 'cm the 



.s(E.Ni ir. WHO S THE DUPE t 2l« 

tone, do. Lord how they'll stare ! Jeremy Gradus,or 
the monkey returned from travel ! 

Sand. Upon my honour, you are too severe. 

Leave us, man leave us I'll settle your affair, 

I warrant. {io Gradus. 

Grad. Not so easily, I fear, he sticks to his point, 
like a rusty weather-cock — all my dependence is on 
the lady. 

Sand. You'll allow Gradus to speak to Miss Doi- 
ley. 

Doil. Oh, aye, to be sure — the more he speaks 
the less she'll like him. Here show Mr. Gradus the 
dressing-room, [exit Gradus] Give her another 

dose ; surfeit her by all means. Why, sure Mr. 

Sandford, you had no hand in transmogrifying 
the 

Sand. Yes, faith, I had. I couldn't endure the 
idea of seeint^ your charming daughter tied to a 
collection of Greek apothegms and Latin quotations; 
so I endeavoured to English him. 

Doil. English him I 1 take it shocking ill of you, 

Mr. Sandford — that I must tell you. Here are 

all my hopes gone, like a whiff of tobacco ! 

Sand. Pho ! my dear Mc. Doiley, this attachment 
of yours to scholarship is a mere whim — 

Doil. Whim ! — We'll suppose it is, I will have my 
whim. AVorked hard ^rty years, and saved about 
twice as many thousand pounds ; and if so much 
labour and so much money won't entitle a man to 
whim, I don't know what the devil should. 

Sand. Nor I either, I'm sure. 

Doil. To tell you a bit of a secret — ^lack of lam- 
ing has been my great detriment. If I'd been a scho- 
lar, there's no knowing what I mought have got 

my plum might have been two my 

Sand. Why, doubtless, a little classical knowledge 



30 WHOS THE DUPE? acvT n. 

might have been useful in driving your bargains for 
Russia tallow and whale blubber. 

Doil. Aye, to be shure ! And 1 do verily believe 
it hindered me from being Lord Mayor — only think 
of that Lord iVIayor of London ! 

Smid. How so ? 

Doil. Why I tended the common council and all 
the parish meetings for fifteen years, without daring 
for to make one arangue ; at last, a westry was call- 
ed about chusing of a turncock. So now, thinks I, 
I'll show 'em what I'm good for. — Our alderman was 
in the purples — so, thinks I, if he tips off, why not 
1 as well as another ? — So I'll make a speech about 
patrots, and then ax for their votes. 

Sand. Very judicious ! 

Doil. If you'll believe me, 1 got up three times. — 
Silence! says Mr. Crier; and my tongue grew so 
dry with fright, that I couldn't wag it ; so I was forc- 
ed to squat down again, 'midst horse-lauglis ; and 
they nicknamed me Dummy, through the whole 
ward. 

Sand. Wicked rogues ! Well, I ask your pardon — 
I had no idea of these important reasons. Yet how 
men differ ! Now the family of Sir Wilford Granger 
are quite distressed by the obstinate attachment to 
the sciences, of that fine young fellow I told you of 
this morning. 

Doil. Aye! What's he Sir William Granger's son? 
Kn(5w his father very well ; — kept a fine study of 
horses, and lost many thousands by it ; lent him 
money many a time — good man — always punctual. 

Sand. Aye, sir, but this youth disappointed all his 
hopes. Mighty pleasant , to see a young fellow, form- 
ed to possess life in all its points and bewitching va- 
rieties, shrink from the world, and bury himself 
amidst obsolete books, systems, and schisms, whilst 



SCENE II. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 'Si 

pleasure woes hiin to her soft embrace, and joys so- 
licit hiui in vain ! Oh, it gave his father great trou- 
ble. 

Doil. Great trouble 1 Dear me, dear me ! I always 
thought Sir Wilford had been a wiser man. — Why, 
1 would have given the world for such a son. 

Sand. He swallows it rarely ! (aside) Oh, he 
piques himself on such tiifles as reading the Greek 
and Latin authors in their own tongues, and mas- 
tering all the quibbles of our English philosophers — 

Doil. English philosophers ! I wouldn't give a 
farthing for them. 

Sand. Why, sure you have heard of a Bacon, a 
Locke, a Newton — 

Doil. Newton ! oh, aye — I have heard of Sir Isaac 
— every body has heard of Sir Isaac — great man — 
master of the Mint. 

Sand. Oh, sir ! this youth has found a dozen mis- 
takes in his theories, and proved him wrong in one 
or two of his calculations. In short, he is advised 
to give the world a system of his own, in which, for 
aught I know, he'll prove the earth to be concave 
instead of spherical, and the moon to be no bigger 
than a punch-bowl. 

Doil. (aside) He's the man — he's the man ! — 
Look'e Mr. Sandford, you've given a description of 
this young fellow, that's set my blood in a ferment. 
Do you — now, my dear friend, do you think that 
you could prevail upon him to marry my daughter ? 

Sand. Why, I don't know — neither beauty nor 
gold has charms for him. Knowledge — knowledge 
is his mistress. 

Doil. Aye ! I'm sorry for that — and yet I'm glad 
of it too. Now, see what ye can do with him — see 
what ye can do with him ! 

Smd. Well, well, I'll try. He premised to call 



32 WHO'S THE DUPE? act ii. 

on me heie this evening, in his way to the Museum. 
I don't know whether he isn't below now. 

Doil. Below now ! Ifackins, that's luckey — hang 
me if it isn't ! Do, go and — and speak to him a bit — 
and bring him up — bring him up. Tell him, if he'll 
marry Elizabeth, I'll give him, that is, I'll leave him 
every farthing I have in the world. 

Sa7id. Well, since you are so very earnest, I'll see 
what I can do. [exit. 

Doil. Thank'e, thank'e ! I 'cod ! I'll buy him twice 
as many books as a college library, but what I'll bribe 
him — that I will. AVhat the dickens can Elizabeth 
be about with that thing there, that Gradus ! He a 
man of learning ? Hang me, if I don't believe his 
head's as hollow as my cane. Shure, she can't have 
taken a fancy to the smattering monkey ! Ho, there 
they are — here he comes ! Why, there's Greek and 
Algebra in his face. 

Enter Sandford and Granger, dressed in black. 
Mr. Granger, your very humble servant, sir, — I'm 
very glad to see you, sir. 

Grang. I thank you sir. (very solemnly. 

Doil. 1 knew your father, sir, as well as a beggar 
knows his dish. Mayhap, Mr. Sandford told you 
that I wanted for to bring you and my daughter ac- 
quainted — I'll go and call her in. 

Grang. 'Tis unnecessary. 

Doil. He seems a mighty silent man, (apart. 

Sand. Studying — studying. Ten to one he's form- 
ing a discourse in Arabic, or revolving one of Euclid's 
problems. 

Doil. Couldn't you set him a talking a bit ! I long 
for to hear him talk. 

Sand. Come, man ! forget the old sages a moment. 
Can't the idea of Miss Doiley give a fillip to your 
imagination ? 



scr,NE II. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 33 

Grang. Miss Doiley, I'm inform'd, is as lovely as 
a woman can be. But what is woman .'' — Only one 
of Nature's agreeable blunders. 

Doil. Hum ! That smacks of something ! (aside) 
— Why, as to that, Mr, Granger, a woman with no 
portion but her whims, might be but a kind of a Jew's 
bargain ; but when fifty thousand is popt into the 
scale, she must be bad indeed, if her husband does 
not find her a pen'worth. 

Grang. With men of the world, Mr. Doiley, fifty 
thousand pounds might have their weight ; but, in 
the balance of philosophy, gold is light as dephlogis- 
ticated air. 

Doil. That's deep 1 can make nothing of it ; 

that must be deep, (aside) Mr. Granger ! the great 
account I have had of your larning, and what not, 
has made me willing for lo be a kin to you. 

Grang. Mr. Sandford suggested to me your de- 
sign, sir ; and as you have so nobly proposed your 
daughter as the prize of learning, I have an ambi- 
tion to be related to you. 

Doil. (aside) But I'll see a bit father into him 
though, first. Now pray, Mr. Granger ! pray now 
— a — I say (to Sand.) Ax him some deep question, 
that he may show himself a bit. 

Sand. What the devil shall I say ? A deep ques- 
tion you would have it.-* Let me see I — Oh, Gran- 
ger, is it your opinion that the ancient antipodes 
walked erect, or crawled on all fours ? 

Grang. A thinking man always doubts but the 

best informations concur, that they were quadru- 
pedes during two revolutions of the sun, and bipedes 
ever after. 

Doil. Quadpedes ! Bipedes ! What a fine man he 
is ! (aside. 

Sand. A surprising transformation I 



34 WHO'S THE DUPE ^ act xi- 

Grang. Not more surprising than the transforma- 
tion of an eruca to a chrysalis, a chrysalis to a 
nymph, and a nymph to a butterfly. 

Doil. There again! I see it will do— I see it will 

do : aye, that I will hang me if I don't, (aside. 

lexit, chuckling and laughing. 

Grang. What's he gone off for, so abruptly ? 

Sand. For his daughter, I hope. Give ye joy, my 
dear fellow: the nymph, the eruca, and the chrysalis, 
have won the day. 

Grang. How shall I bound my happiness ! My 
dear Sandford, that was the luckiest question, about 
the antipodes. 

Sa?id. Yes, pretty successful. Have you been at 
your studies ? 

Grang. Oh, I've been in the dictionary this half 
hour ; and have picked up cramp words enough to 
puzzle and delight the old gentleman the remainder 
of his life. 

Sand. Hei-e he is, faith 

Grang. And Elizabeth with him — I hear her dear 

footsteps ! Oh, how shall I 

Doil. (^without) Come along, I say — what a plague 
are you so modest for .-' Come in here, (pulls in 
Gradus by the arm) Here, I've brought him — one of 
your own kidney — ha ! ha ! ha ! Now I'll lay you a 
gallon you cant guess what I've brought him for; 
I've brought him — ha ! ha ! ha ! for to pit him 
against you (to Granger) to see which of you two 
is the most lamed — ha ! ha ! 

Grang. Ten thousand devils, plagues, and furies ! 

Sand. Here's a blow up ! 

Doil. Why, for all he looks so like a nincompoop 
m this pye-picked jacket, he's got his noddle full of 
Greek and Algebra, and them things. Why, Gradus, 
don't stand aloof, man — this is a brother scholar,. I 
tell vc. 



^.i.NKi/. WHO'S THE DUPE r 35 

Grad. A scholar ! all who have earned that dis- 
tinction are my brethern. Carissimefrater, gaudeo 
te videre. 

Grang. Sir — you — T most obedient. I wish 

thou wert in the bottom of the Red sea, and the 
larj^est folio in thy library about thy neck, (aside. 

Sand. For heaven's sake, Mr. Doiley, what do you 
mean .' 

Doil. Mean ! why I mean for to pit 'em, to be 
sure, and to give Elizabeth to the winner. — Touch 
him up, touch him up ! (to Granger) Show him what 
a fool he is. 

Sand. Why, sure you won't set them together by 
the ears ! 

Doil. JNo, no ; but I'm resolved for to set them 
tof^cther by the tongues. To cut the business short 
— Mr. Gradus ! you arc to be sure a great dab at 
laming, and what not; but I'll bet my daughter, and 

fifty thousand to boot, that Granger beats ye and 

he tliat wins shall have her. 

Grang. Heavens, what a stake ! 'Tis sufficient to 
inspire a dolt with the tongues of Babel. 

Sand. My deaV friend, think of the indelicacy 

Doil. Fiddle-de-dee ! — I tell you, I will have my 
whim — and so Gradus, set off. By Jenkin ! you'll 
fiiid it a tough business to beat Granger — he's one 
of your great genus men — going to write a book 
about Sir Isaac, and the moon, and the devil knows 
what. 

(Miss Doiley and Char, enter at the back of the. 
stage. 

Grad. If so, the more glorious will be my victory. 
Come, sir ! let us enter the lists, since it must be so, 
for this charming prize ; (pointing to Miss Doiley) 
chuse your weapons — Hebrew — Greek — Latin, or 
English. Name your subject ; we will pursue it 
5; llbgfstically, or socraticaily, a.* yoa please. 



86 AVHO'S THE DUPE ? act n 

Grang. (aside) Curse your syllogisms and socra- 
ticisms. 

Doil. No, no, I'll not have no English — what a 
plague I every shoe-black jabbers English, so give 
us a touch of Greek to set off with — come, Gradus, 
you begin. 

Miss Doil. Undone ! undone ! 

Grad. If it is merely a recitation of Greek that 
you want, you shall be gratified. An epigram that 
occurs to me, will give you an idea of that sublime 
language. 

Char, (aside) Oh, confound your sublime language. 

Grad. Panta gelos, kai panla konis kai panta to 
^ meden 
Pa?itagar exalagon, eslita ginomena. 

Doil. Panta tri pantry ! Why, that's all about the 
pantry. What, the old Grecians loved tit-bits, may- 
hap — but that's low ! aye, Sandford ! 

Sand. Oh, cursed low ! he might as well have 
talked about a pig-stye. 

Doil. Come, Granger, now for it ! Elizabeth and 
fifty thousand pounds ! 

Grang. Yes, sir. I — I — am not much prepared: 
I could wish — 1 could wish — Sandford ! (apart. 

Sa7id. Zounds ! say something — any thing I 

Char, (aside) Ah ! it's all over. He could as easily 
furnish the ways and means, as a word in Greek. 

Doil. Hoity, toity ! W^hat, at a stand! Why sure 
you can talk Greek as well as Gradus. 

Grang. 'Tis a point I cannot decide, you must de- 
termine it. Now, impudence, embrace me with thy 
seven-fold shield ! Zanthus, I remember, in describ- 
ing such a night as this 

Grad. Zanthus ! you surely err. Homer men- 
tions but one being of that name, except a river, 
and he wiis a horse. 



SCENE 11. WHO'S THE DUPE ? 37 

Grang. Sir, he was an orator — and such an one 
that, Homer records, the gods themselves inspired 
him. 

Cfrad. True, sir— but you won't deny 

Doil. Come, come ! I sha'n't have no browbeating 
—nobody offered for to contradict you — so begin 
{to Granger) What said orator Zanthus ? 

Grang. Yon lucid orb, in aether pensile, irradiates 
th' expanse. Refulgent scintillations, in th' ambient 
void opake, emit humid splendour. Chrysalic spe- 
roids th' horizon vivify — astifarious constellations, 
noctural sporades, in refrangerated radii, illume our 
orb terrene. 

Miss Doil. I breathe again. (aside. 

Doil. There ! there 1 well spoke, Granger ! — Now, 
Gradus, beat that ! 

Grad. I am enwrapt in astonishment ! You are 
imposed on, sir, — instead of classical language, you 
have heard a rant in English 

Doil. English ! Zounds ! d'ye take me for a fool? 
D'ye think I don't know my own mother-tongue!-^ 
'Twas no more like English, than 1 am like Whit- 
tington's cat. 

Grad. It was every syllable English. 

Doil. There's impudence ! There wasn't no 

word of it English — if you take that for English, 
devil take me if I believe there was a word of Greek 
in all your try-pantrys. 

Grad. Oh ! the torture of ignorance ! 

Doil. Ignorant ! — Come, come, none of your tricks 
upon travellers. I know you mean all that as a skit 

upon my edication but I'll have you to know, 

sir, that I'll read the hardest chapter of Nehemiah 
with you for your ears. 

Grad. I repeat that you are imposed on. Mr 
Sandford, I appeal to you. 



38 WHO'S THE DUPEr act ii. 

GrcCng. And I appeal 

iiand. Nay, gentlemen, Mr. Doiley is your judge 
in all disputes concerning the vulgar tongue. 

Doil. Aye, to be sure I am. Who cares lor your 
peals ? I peal too ; and 1 tell you, I won't be impos- 
ed on. Here Elizabeth, I have got ye a husband, 
at last, to my heart's content. 

Miss Doil. Him, sir ! You presented that gentle- 
man to me this morning, and I have found such a 
tund of merit in him— 

Doil. In he ! what in that beau-bookworm ! that 
argufies me down, I don't know English ? Don't go 
for to provoke mc — bid that Mr. Granger welcome 
to my house — he'll soon be master on't. 

J\Iiss Doil. Sir, in obedience to the commands of 
my father (signijieantly.) 

Doil. Sha'n't say obedience, say something to him 
of yourself lie's a man after my own heart. 

Miss Doil. Then sir, without reserve, I acknow- 
ledge your choice of Mr. Granger is perfectly agree- 
able to mine. 

Doil. That's ray dear Bet ! (kissing her) We'll 

have the wedding directly. There ! d'ye understand 
that, Mr. Tri-pantry ? is that English ? 

Grad. Yes, so plain, that it has exsuscitated my 
tmderstanding — t perceive I have been duped. 

Doil. Aye, well ! I had rather you should be the 
dupe than me. 

Grad. AVell, sir, I have no inclination to contest — 
if the lovely Charlotte will perform her promise. 

Char. Agreed ! provided that, in your character 
of husband, you will be as singular and old fashion- 
«id, as the wig you wore this morning. 

Doil. What, cousin ! have you taken a fancy to 
the scholar } Egad ; you're a cute girl, and mayhap 
ma V be able to make somelhina: of him ; and 1 dour 



^LE^EI^ WHO'S THE DUPE? 39 

care if I throw in a few hundred, that you mayn't 
repent your bargain. Well, now I've settled this 
affair exactly to my mind, I am the happiest man 
in the world. And, d'ye hear, Gradus ? I don't love 
for to bear malice. If you'll trot back to college, 
and larn the difference between Greek and English, 
why you may stand a chance to be tutor — when 
they've made me a grandfather. 

Grad. I have had enough of languages. You see 
1 have just engaged a tutor to teach me to read the 
world ; and if I play my part there as well as I did 
at Brazen-Nose, your indulgence will grant me ap- 
plause. 



THE END OF WHO 5 THE DUPE. 



^ 



LIVING PLAl 



CABINET EDITIOK 



The intention of the publisher is to present to the 
public a complete edition of all the Plays that are 
not " laid upon the shelf." It is presumeci that there 
are very few Englisi< readers to whom this edition 
will not be acceptable, as the form is portable and 
convenient. 

The following are a part of those that are to sjic- 
ceed : — 



Beggar*' Opera 

Douglas 

Belles' Stratagem 

Barbarossa 

Inkle and Yarico 

High Life Below Stairs 

The Clandestine Marriage 

The Padlock 

The Wonder 

The Country Girl 

John Dull 

Who wants a Guinea 

Speed the Plough 

Damon and Pythias 

Forest of Bondy 

Virginias 

Brutus 

A Cure loi the Heart-Ache 

Poor G entteman 

The Soldiei's Daughter 

The Dramatist 

The Heir at Law 

Rol) Roy M'Gregor 

llule a Wile, &c. 

The Iron Chest 

Busy Body 

Pizarro 

The Curfew 



The Orphan 

Wives as they were, kc. 

A Roland for an Oliver 

The Woodman's Hut 

Tekelijor the Siege of Monlgatz 

Love I.aughs at Locksmiths 

Kew Way to Pay Old Dcl)ts 

Mountaineers 

My Grand Mother 

Of Age To-mon ow 

Three Weeks after Mairiagc 

Review, or Wag of Windsor 

Road to Ruin 

The Rohheis 

Romp 

School for Scandal 

School of Reform 

Sleep Walkci 

Spoil'd Child 

Stranger 

Town and Coun(r\ 

Turn Out 

Village La-.vyer 

Way to get MarrieJ 

Wheel of" Fortune 

Wild Oats 

Will for the Deed 

Isabellk 



Koe 



KX^i 




